(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

whatever bargains you like with it, but set it free. I don't care what you do
then."
~~~~~
I wondered if my boots were clean.
Really, you're about to release a soul-devouring horror of the nether realms
to wreak havoc on the Planes at the behest of an addled old hag. You're
doing this for some unknown purpose, in a town where ignorance has led
you down the worst path imaginable.
And the only thing you can think of is whether your boots are clean when
you're tromping on what's left of the Town's grain supply.
The grain crunches beneath our feet, the ladder rattles as we ascend. Kept
on focusing on the little things to keep myself sane.
Of course, I couldn't be nonchalant here.
Right in the center of the loft was an empty pentagram. The air was dry and
cold, and there was a scent in the air, of old magic gone stale and evil
permeating the area, held in rein only by a circle of bone-gray ash.
The air darkened for a moment, and there was a sense of wind rushing
through my head and my heart, bringing a cold chill that seemed to freeze
my insides. When my vision cleared a towering fiend stood, over fifteen feet
in height with a dog-like head scraping the ceiling. Its massive torso
sprouted four arms... two that ended in pincers, and two with clawed hands.
Sharp fangs shone ivory-yellow and violet eyes glinted with fiendish
intellect. It gazed at me steadily.
"Uh, wow."
The creature's gaze never wavered as it continued to stare at me. I
swallowed, not knowing what to say until I felt a tugging sensation at my
mind and a voice rang in my head. "Greetings to you as well, human. I am
Agril-Shanak. Why are you here?"
"I have some questions..."
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